“Why are you staring at me, Nick?” she snapped.
Nick shrugged and tapped a pen on the desk. There was a little pause. The thought occurred to Celeste that she’d never actually been alone, like totally alone, with Nick for more than a few minutes. Well, except for those ill-advised hookup sessions last summer. The silence stretched out until it filled the room. Celeste wondered if he could hear her stomach rumbling and put her hand over her belly.
Then Nick put down the pen and leaned forward a
little. “So, Celeste, what’s your story?”
“What?” Celeste blinked rapidly.
“I mean, you and I have known each other for like five years or something, right?”
Celeste considered this. “Yeah, that’s about right.”
“Well, I can’t figure out why you’re still stuck here, working every summer. Did you commit some sort of crime at birth or something?”
Celeste bristled until she saw the playful crinkles around Nick’s eyes. “Wait, what am I doing here?” she asked, going wide-eyed. “Oh my God! Rescue me, Nick Saunders!”
Nick laughed. “Funny. I never noticed that about you before. But seriously—why do they make you work here every summer?”
Celeste looked down at the now-dry seating plan.
“It’s not that I’m chained to the resort or something. It’s just that …” She paused. “Well, my dad’s really into the idea of the family working together—like really into it. I mean, this resort is my parents’ entire life. I think if I told them I’d rather not work, they’d be really upset.”
“So, you’re destined to be towel-folder and drink-fetcher until college?” Nick smirked.
She shrugged. “I guess so. There was this program… .”
She stopped. She wasn’t about to tell Nick the Rich and Arrogant about her dream writing program just because he had managed to talk to her for twenty seconds without flirting. She looked down at the desk and made a little, insignificant mark on the seating chart.
“What program?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing.” Just then, the office door swung open and Devon walked in.
Celeste jumped up in relief. “Hey, Dev. Thanks for coming over.”
Devon smiled. “No problem.” She held her hand out to Nick. “I’m Devon Wright, the guest relations rep. I’m going to help you plan your party.”
Nick took Devon’s hand in his as though it were a precious offering. Now his mouth was hanging open.
Celeste could hardly blame him. Devon was wearing a skin-tight white linen sheath dress, a string of giant blue beads that hung down practically to her waist, and a huge pink hibiscus tucked behind one ear.
As Celeste watched, Devon gave Nick a sexy little smile. “I’m going to make sure this is the best party ever,” she purred.
Nick nodded dumbly, still hanging on to Devon’s
hand. “Great,” he croaked. “That sounds great.”
Celeste managed to stifle her snorting laughter in the crook of her forearm. Nick barely looked around as she crept from the room. Finally, Celeste felt like she’d found the one thing that could take Nick’s mind off her—her best friend.
Chapter Ten
To Celeste, it seemed like Nick and Devon were everywhere she turned over the next couple of weeks. They were always walking around the resort, their heads together, talking and laughing. Sometimes, they seemed to actually be doing some party planning. Celeste saw Devon taking digital pictures of the pool area one day, while Nick suggested various angles. And it seemed like every time Celeste hung out with Devon, Devon’s
phone was ringing with another call from Nick.
She should be grateful, Celeste told herself. After all, she finally had Nick off her back. He was so wrapped up now that he had even stopped calling her with useless requests for Perrier at room temperature or six lemons on ice. Anyway, she didn’t have time to think about the film festival. The resort was packed. Between Celeste’s nonstop work and Devon’s party planning, they’d barely had time to talk.
On yet another blisteringly hot day, Celeste was gathering up dirty glasses and scattered newspapers around the pool. The place was oddly deserted—it was too hot to sit outside, so most of the guests had retreated to their rooms to wait out the middle of the day. As she stooped to retrieve a crumpled New Yorker from under one of the chairs, Celeste wished that she were lying down on a soft duvet-covered bed somewhere, in a nice cool guesthouse, with the shades pulled down and the AC going full blast. She straightened up. The pool water glittered like a hard blue jewel in the blinding sun. She could feel the heat of the deck boards even through the rubber soles of her boat shoes.
Celeste heard footsteps behind her and turned
around. Devon, looking beautiful and cool as usual in a pale yellow cotton sundress, with her black hair tied up at the back of her head, approached her. She was carrying two dripping cans of Diet Coke.
“You are an angel,” Celeste said, accepting a frosty can and downing half of it in the first gulp. She collapsed onto a lounge chair. Devon perched on the edge of the next one and sipped her soda.
“I know. I could see you slaving away out here from the office window and had to rescue you.”
“Thanks, babe.” Celeste slurped again at her Diet Coke and wiped her forehead with her arm. “Were you working on party stuff ?”
“Yeah. I was going over some photos of the pool area.
Nick wants to have this tent over the water that makes it look like a ice castle—he saw it in Vanity Fair.” Devon rolled her eyes. “I looked it up—it costs like five thousand dollars to rent!” Suddenly, she leaned forward con-spiratorially. Celeste caught the look her on her face and started laughing.
“What? Is that your latest attempt at a spy face?”
Devon looked wounded. “Hey, I’m very stealth. Anyway, I was going to ask why you stopped hooking up with Nick? He’s so gorgeous!”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Because he went back to L.A.
We’ve only ever been
